heromuxfandomcom-20200216-history
2014.01.30 - If it ain't one thing, it's another...
Well, it was evening. The day of the week was Wednesday. As it often did this time of year - it got dark in a hurry, and on the east coast, it was desperately cold out. And Zatanna Zatara... Well, we'll get to her. What was more important right now was Mr. Barry Jamboni. In spite of his jovial-sounding name, he had run into a problem. Gambling debts. With the worst people imaginable. And while in most cities that was fine - here? The sort of people that would loan money tended to have a handful of people with incredibly odd powers on hand. So Mr. Jamboni was desperate. Not only that. Mr. Jamboni had a gun, held in shaky hands, aimed at the clerk of the corner Gas n' Go - said clerk (named Todd, incidentally, a college student trying to make ends meet), starting to rummage through his drawer - pulling out all the money that he had available. "Come on, come /on/, hurry it up already!" says Barry, casting a llook over his shoulder towards the door. It would be difficult to tell who was more scared right now. Like Roseanne Roseannadanna said, if it ain't one thing, it's anuddah. The gaping gash on Vorpal's right leg attests to that saying- a hostage situation that, thankfully, had a happy ending, but not without the assassin deciding that one target was as good as another. Fortunately it was mostly the fabric that was torn, the wound had been very minor. Cheap katanas, whaddaya know? So it was at the end of his route, and he had the sudden urge for a soda. Just one of those urges, see, and so the Cheshire cat walks into the station convenience store, hoping for a fizz and a relaxing evening at home. And he walks into the other thing. "... timing is everything, isn't it?" he mutters. "... alright, nobody do anything stupid. Especially you, kid." The cat says, staying very put with his eyes on Mr. Jamboni. Needless to say, Mr. Jamboni wasn't precisely pleased with the interruption. Glancing over his shoulder, he spies the colourful catman, and almost immeadiately, his gun swings from Todd towards Vorpal. "No - no no no no. There's no hero stuff happening right here - not here, not /now/," says Barry. "Alright! Alright!" says Barry. "You... just stay over there by the door. I'm going to take care of this withdrawl really quick, and then none of you, /none/ of you, will call the police, or any freaky superfriends, or anything - understand?" While Barry was demanding a bit, Todd takes this opprotunity to duck behind the counter, which has Barry glancing over his shoulder back towards the register. Only for a moment. One would have to be fast to take advantage of an opprotunity like this. "If you say so. There's no hero stuff happening right here." The Cheshire's soothing voice fades a little as he, too, shimmers into nothingness Where did he go? Suddenly, the inside of the gas station has been replaced by a McDonald's, for some reason. And a clown with dead, grey and steeley eyes stares at Mr. Jamboni. "So... you want this in hundreds? Twenties? And ya wanna fries with that?" The clown says, his red hair looking frazzled and worn. In the meantime, Vorpal appears next to the clerk and puts a fingers to his lips. Hidden behind the illusion as they are, he gestures for the man to run to the bathroom. "I'll take care of this" he whispers. Barry cries out as Vorpal kinda fades away a bit. Holding up his weapon, he licks his lips, tempted briefly to pull the trigger - to shoot the empty spot of air where Keith was, once. But there was that sorta... Barry didn't /really/ want to kill anyone, really. Just get money in the worst way possible. Plus, that Cheshire guy? Soothing voice. And then... "Huh? What?" Barry blinks his eyes twice as he sweeps his gaze along the inside of the McDonald's, lifting his weapon to point at the ceiling. Turning back around towards the clown, Barry pauses a moment, staring in... disbelief as he looks at him. "No... oh god... what's happening here?" he asks, taking a quick step back. He doesn't think about lowering the weapon to level on the clown, but his eyes were wild - eyes were quivering. Todd, for that matter, glances up as the cat appears before him, the young man kinda... "What are you doing to him?" he asks in a whisper. "To /me/?" A beat - and he glances up to spot the washroom - keeping low to the ground as he starts beating feet for there. "Just trust me. I'm trying to defuse this without things going south." Vorpal whispers to the clerk. After all, his motto is 'What Would Wonder Woman Do?' Granted, he did not have the Amazon's eloquence... so he had to do things his way. "It doesn't have to be this way..." The clown says. "You rob a place... you kill a guy getting out. And then, what happens?" The environment shifts again. Grim prison walls, caked with dirt, blood, and goodness-knows-what-else. And there's Barry, being walked down the corridor with guards on either side, and a priest reading something in latin from his little black book. The illusory Barry looks at the real one as they pass by him- hollow eyes, sallow skin, the weight of murder on the conscience. "You don't have to do this." The lights dim. The sound of electricity somewhere, long after the illusory Barry is gone. "Why don't you tell me why you need the money so badly?" The entire place fades to black, with only a spotlight on the real Barry. And then, a little off to the side, Vorpal is there, sitting on the ground and looking up at Barry. "... I can help you, you know. But I can't help you if you rob that cashier or pull that trigger." Moving for the door, Barry instead bumps into a wall, whirling around to look at it - before he whirls back, nostrils flaring and eyes flickering back to - himself. For the longest moment, he stands there, stunned - at this show made especially for him, the shiver that was in his gun hand overtaking his whole body. The bathroom door flicks closed as the clerk takes care to close it soundlessly - perhaps leaving a sliver so he can peek out and watch, as well. Barry pauses a moment, his eyes blinking awake a moment as he lifts his eyes down towards... the sitting Vorpal. He lifts his gun, still quivering. "You're in my head, aren't you?" he asks, his tone of voice a bit hollow, his eyes haunted a bit. "None of this is really happening." He doesn't lower his pistol. "You don't know... you don't know the kind of crap I'm in, man. I /need/ this. You don't know what these guys /take/ if you... don't pay back your loans." "I'm very real." Suddenly, the illusions stop and leave just Barry and Vorpal, him still sitting on the ground. "I'm a hero, and I'm sworn to protect people. You still have a choice between being someone I am to protect, and someone I must protect others from. Sit down here, with me. I won't do anything to you, provided you don't do anything crazy. Sit down with me and tell me what's going on." The world fades back into the normal - and the man glances left, and right. The weapon? He looks down at it as if he were looking at a vile thing in his hand, and he tosses it away. But no, Barry Jamboni doesn't sit. The Brooklyn in his voice starts coming out - the man bringing up his now-empty hands to run through his short black hair. And he starts to pace, the anxiety in him leaking from every bit of his stance - the shiver in his shoulders, his hands, seemingly entirely unleashed. "I didn't know - I knew these guys were bad, but not... this bad. We're talking... like... devils and eating people, and whatever else. Show up to me, pretty as you please, at the side of the table. Give me a little loan. Just a couple grand, if I can make it back, no problem. If not, they'll collect." "I /saw/ how they collected someone else, and that's not gonna be me, you understand? Not gonna be me." In the bathroom, Todd lifts a phone from his pocket - fingers starting to dial 911 - when a white-gloved hand comes to touch his own hand, belonging to Zatanna - who lifts her other hand to her lips to give a shushing motion and a wink. The cat narrows his eyes. Demons. This was serious. "I understand, and I believe you." He slowly rises from the floor. "I need you to tell me two things-- firstly, how much money you owe them. And second... where might *I* be able to find these men?" "I just borrowed two grand. But they wanted five grand, this morning, and... I don't know where to find them. They said, they said..." Another voice lifts up, bassy and low - almost low enough to vibrate the glass. It came from a figure in the door. By first appearances, it was just a man - craggy-jawed, flint-eyed - wearing a trenchcoat and a fedora. A hand - covered in callouses and scars - lifts up to pull the hat from his head. His thin hair is combed forward over the top of his head, looking like a spider clutching an egg. "They said that they would find you. And it's time to collect," says the man, switching his eyes from man to hero, and then back again. He was disregarding Vorpal entirely. Barry releases a soundless cry. The grim-faced man does not react. And in the bathroom - Zee's smile leaves her face in a moment, and the woman whispers to Todd. "Get out. Go through the back - just do what you can to get out and get away," she says. The Cheshire cat turns around to face the apparition. Yellow-green eyes narrow. It would be a lie to say that Vorpal has no fear. Anyone would feel fear in the presence of the demonic. However, he's also earnest in his desire to become a hero, and heroes do not back down. "Very impressive, with the voice." His powers of illusion activate, enhancing his own voice to match that of the interlocutor. "...I've rattled inside the brain of the Loa of the Dead. You don't scare me. And you have no claim over this man." The cat grabs Barry's arm and drags him back towards the closest door- the utility closet, and whispers urgently "... I'm going to take you somewhere safe. Don't move from there. They won't get you there. I'll come to you soon." He doesn't leave any time for Barry to answer, he simply focuses on Oblivion and opens the door-- and instead of the dirty utility closet, the elegant wood finish of the bar can be seen past the threshold. For a brief moment, anyways, as Keith pushes Barry through and slams the door behind him. The cheshire grin flashes. "... now it's just you and me. What are you gonna do about that?" From the bathroom, Zatanna Zatara steps out - Todd leaving the bathroom behind her, and bolting for the door leading into the back. Zatanna Zatara had a showwoman's smile dancing up on her red-painted lips, a magic wand in her hands - and, of course, the top hat on her head. Only for that smile to kinda fade from her lips when the demon ignores her just as much. It ignores Vorpal as well, his eyes - a little fire burned in the back of them if one stares into them - fixed on the point where Barry had disappeared. A long moment, and the grim-faced demon releases a world-weary sigh, settling his hat back unto his head, and levelling his gaze upon Vorpal. "Foolish to interfere. Unless you intend to pay the debt of his soul with that of your own?" says the demon, his face almost cracking like a rock would into a smile. "He traded his soul for a bauble. And lost it to the cursed wheels of Greed," says the demon, his voice shivering the entire room. "And we will collect. We always collect," he says, bringing up a hand to the rim of his hat, tugging it down in a farewell sort of salute to Vorpal. If the cat does not do anything - he would turn - to walk out into the cold of the night. "You're welcome to try to collect, demon scum." The cat hisses, not noticing Zatanna coming out. "I'm not alone." Vorpal has the pride of a cat, that's for certain. And the purple, glowing wall that materializes to block the way out is quite real, and quite hard. "You're not leaving without settling this. You think you've got a club? Mine's bigger. I've got Fate on my si---" he trails off when he notices... holy crap, is that Zatanna Zatara? "saywhat?" Zatanna kinda clears her throat, glancing from demon to cat and back again. "Hey - sorry to just appear out of nowhere. I was enjoying the way you were handling that whole robbery thing, however. A bit poetic," she says, pursing her lips. "Demons, however - that's a bit of a bigger league. Have you handled them before?" The demon stops as the wall appears - lifting a hand up - fingers spreading far wider than human fingers should spread, placing them against the purple wall. If it shocks him, it just causes his hand to smoke, fizzling. A heady sigh, and the demon turns back around, lifting up his hand to pull his fedora off of his head. "I've got all of hell behind me, hero," he says. "Strike this body down, and I'll just grab another. And another," he says, his eyes flickering from Vorpal to Zatanna, and back again. "I shot through the brains of the Haitian god of the dead and helped bring down some fallen angels. So kinda sorta..." he says, recovering from the impression. He's starstruck, but this is no time to show it. He looks at the demon as he talks-- the wall doesn't shock him, but it's very solid, and built of chaos magic. "You have two options, demon. You accept a check for two thousand, what you loaned him... or you can take me down." He shrugs, "Sure, you'll probably cut through me in a second. But after me you'll have to deal with the God of Thunder and the Goddess of War, Doctor Fate and a couple of other people coming along just for kicks and giggles. Because nobody I know is going to let you get away with stealing someone's soul, no matter how stupid they were." In the scheme of things, he was insignificant-- just an aberration of nature trying to be a hero in the shadow of the truly great. But Wonder Woman wouldn't back down from a demon when a man's soul was on the line. "You like to play games? Well, that's the rules of the house." For all of Zatanna's power - or lack thereof, the woman seems to be just taking a step to the side right now - to take a position behind and to one side of Vorpal, crossing her arms in what she hoped was a threatening manner, kinda waggling her wand in a circle, sparkles glittering around the tip of it. The Demon spreads his arms - left hand still holding the fedora, and makes a wide gesture - drawing in a deep breath before shaking his head sadly. "Stealing? I don't steal - we traded. A soul for a handful of cash, and a bit of bad luck to sweeten the deal. He gave it gladly. It's business!" he exclaims, sounding a bit perturbed. "We just take the longer view than most of our clients. Greed can blind most," he says, giving the cat a smile - his teeth seemingly filed to points. For a long moment, he just stares at the cat after his proclamation, his eyes not wavering to Zatanna for any bit of that moment. "Naw. Don't need a check," he says, waving his hat at the cat like he was waving a butterfly away. "Alright. Barry Jamboni can keep his soul - for now. But we'll be watching him." There was a grin then, with those too-sharp teeth. "...and we'll find a way to strike a new deal," he says, snapping his fingers, and then pointing back at the wall. "Now. If you don't mind?" He replaces his fedora. Vorpal dismisses the wall, eyes narrowed still. "Don't let the nine gates hit you on the way out." Zatanna Zatara waits a long moment - waits for the demon to give them both a lingering sort of glare - before he turns on his heel and begins to stalk out into the night - getting about two steps before he vanishes into a red mist. And Zatanna breathes out a long sigh. Twisting her wrist, she snaps - and the wand disappears into her sleeve. Zee chews on her lower lip. "I've not seen many of Greed's minions outside of... well, last time I ran into that /particular/ lord of hell was somewhere in Vegas. But apparently, he's branching out," says Zee, turning her eyes towards Keith, and narrowing them. "One thing about greed, you know, you're never satisfied when you're greedy. And you got in his way. He's going to start lusting for your soul now, too," says Zatanna, her lips pursing tightly. "But I'm being rude! Zatanna Zatara - Mistress of Magic," she says, bringing up a hand to reach for the rim of her top hat, bending forward and sweeping it in a bow. "Nicely done, all around, Mr...?" The Cheshire cat looks sheepish and bows back, "Vorpal. Keith O'Neil. Master of getting up to my ears in trouble. A pleasure, Miss Zatara..." "Well, you've certainly got your share of trouble tonight," says Zee, crossing her arms over her front and kinda taking a step back from him. "Would it be rude to ask if you're a psychic? How was it that you were... you know, changing everything?" "Well... I'm not psyhic. I'm just a Cheshire cat. I'm a creature of chaos, and I've got a little bit of chaos magic to swing around. But only in a very specific way. Those illusions were real, as far as they were intangible visual illusions. I can also conjure up sounds and scents. I can create some objects... And other things." He shrugs. "It's not very impressive as hero powers go, but one does what one can." Zatanna snaps her fingers, "So /that's/ what I felt. Chaos has an interesting... feel to it. Kinda like trying to grasp sand and... well, you probably know better than I do," says the magicienne, the corners of her lips lifting up in a smile. Bringing up a hand, Zatanna taps a fingertip against her lips, considering something carefully. "You know... as far as hero powers go, it's very impressive. Perhaps not as effective as punching someone through a wall, but it has its uses. Do you... happen to have a job?" asks Zatanna, kinda casually. "One I'm not terribly fond of. Errand boy at LOOKER INC. Was told flat out I'm too freaky to be photographed." Keith says with a smirk. "Why do you ask?" Zatanna kinda narrows her eyes at the mention of LOOKER INC, but does not comment - nor does her smile fall from her lips. "Errand boy? Seems kinda... limited, for someone of your skillset," says Zatanna. A beat - and Zatanna kinda snaps her hat off of her own head with a flourish, gives a little wave of her fingertips over the body of the hat - anyone who knew anything about magic probably knew that many of these gestures were superfluous, and Zatanna reaches into her hand - and pulls out a roll of paper. A looong roll of paper, much longer than the hat had space for. It was a full-sized poster, and Zatanna slaps her hat back on at a jaunty angle afterwards, grasping the poster by one end of the roll, and letting gravity unfurl it. 'Zatanna, ~Mistress of Magic~', it read, 'Shows every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings.' Complete with a stylised drawing of Zatanna, standing triumphantly with doves streaming out of her hat. "My day job. At least - it keeps me out of trouble, and keeps me creative. I have a magic show - and I like to change it up every so often. Someone like you, with the powers you have - I'd imagine you could really liven up a show. Perhaps as a stage assistant?" she asks. A wave of her hand, and the poster rolls up into her hand again. Zee then reaches into her coat for a pen, to scribble a phone number onto a bit of the poster, before offering the poster to Vorpal. "I also live in Shadowcrest Manor. You have an open invitation to come by, anytime you wish; just, um... don't break in. It's warded from here to eternity." Shadowcrest - Foyer The foyer of Shadowcrest is a two story, circular affair with vaulted dome ceiling showing the night sky, and twin staircases spiraling up to the second floor. The floors are gold veined black marble, the walls a pristine white tile, and the accents shimmering gold. Archways lead off deeper into the mansion. On the walls of the foyer are oil paintings of some of the most influential members of the Zatara ancestry, including Nicholas Flamel, Leonardo Da Vinci, Nostradamus, and Giovanni Zatara. Vorpal (0s) Zatanna Zatara (8m) LI Library SR Room of Requirement O Shadowcrest Grounds The Cheshire cat's eyes widen. He takes the poster almost mechanically, and mutters "Wow... a stage assistant? Really?" It was, after all, THE Zatanna. If he told Billy, he'd turn as green as his boyfriend. In the judgment scale of the cat, one one side there was LOOKER INC., with all of the truculent issues he had identified (or thought he had, at least), whereas on the other one there was a chance to work alongside Zatanna Zatara. "I mean... where can I start?" LOG NOTE: where=when "Have you ever been to my show?" says Zatanna, "Let's say..." Zatanna shows her empty palm to Vorpal - before twisting her hand around, and when she shows her palm again, with a flick of her wrist - two tickets were clutched between her fore and middle fingers. "You can bring a friend to the show tomorrow, see if it's something you'd want to do - and start thinking of ideas to work your way into the show. And we can discuss them over tea or something Friday morning, and then get together on Sunday to flesh it out and start rehearsing through the week. I would ask if you have stage experience, but I get the feeling you're a bit of a natural, Mr. O'Neil," says Zee, tapping the side of her nose. Vorpal blinks and takes the tickets, "Oh, thank you... I'll bring Patrick along... I was going to come to your show once but then I caught on fire and..." pause. "Long story. Yes. I'll let you know... but I get the feeling it's going to be a 'ye's, ma'am." "Great," says Zatanna, giving the young man a smile. Bringing up a hand, she pulls her hat off of her head, "Zee is fine, though. Ma'am just makes me feel old and I'm not... /that/ much older than you," says she, with that same dazzling smile as before, "I'll see you Friday, then," she says, breathing out a bit of a sigh as she starts to walk towards the door. Although she wore a smile - and was excited about the possibilties of such an illusionist - the back of her mind was troubled. Demons were rarely a good sign. Vorpal would probably have a good freak out about the demons as well. Later. Right now he had to go to Oblivion and have a VERY long talk with Mr. Gambler. And explain to him that he either gave up his habit or he'd end up giving up much more than that. And then he'd go back home, kiss Patrick, and share the good news. And then, he'd freak out. But hey.... as they say, if it ain't one thing, it's anudda... Category:Log